Strip Search (43 page)

Of course there hadn’t. I wasn’t going to lie to him.

“So if I do not solve the puzzle, everyone in this section of the building will die, right?”

Goddamn that stupid big heart of his! “Darcy, I’m ordering you—”

“Shhh! I am thinking. Maybe I can get this. Maybe.”

“You can’t. I mean, if anyone ever could, it would be you, Darcy. But no one can. Esther told me. Certainly not in”—I glanced at my watch—“less than three minutes. She said that no matter what you do, it just keeps continuing.”

He tilted his head to one side, then his eyes brightened. “Continuing fractions? Like what the Math Lady had in her classroom?” He hunched over the keypad and punched the keys, rapid-fire.

Esther laughed. “When he was in my classroom, it took him an hour to solve three equations. Has he studied them since?”

I answered, even though my lips were dry and tremulous. “I don’t think so.”

“Then he doesn’t have a chance.”

I checked my watch. Barely more than two minutes till four. Assuming my watch was accurate. “Darcy! Give it up! We have to get out of here!”

He was still punching madly at the keypad. “I think that maybe I can get it.” Long pause. “But there are so many equations. Each one leads to another.”

“Darcy! There just isn’t time!” I didn’t know what to do. I could go in there and try to drag him out, but he would resist. I couldn’t carry him out and get far enough away in time. “Darcy! It’s going to detonate!”

“Did you know that thirty-seven percent of all detonators fail?”

I felt a hollow aching in my chest. “Hers won’t.” I climbed through the window. While he worked, I examined the bomb over his shoulder. I saw the clock that worked as the timer—less than a minute away from four o’clock. Two wires were attached to the minute hand—one leading to the power source and the other to the detonator—and there was a pin soldered in precisely at the four. I imagined there was a relay that cut off the triggering signal by stopping the clock, if the puzzle was solved in time, something that separated the power source from the detonator. I could see that the plugs and wires could not be pulled out—they’d been soldered into place, too. I didn’t think my odds of snipping the right wire to defuse the bomb were high; it might not even be possible. Either Darcy solved this puzzle or a lot of people were going to die. Including Darcy.

And me. Because I wasn’t leaving him here alone.

“Darcy,” I murmured quietly. Beads of sweat were dripping down the sides of my face. My heart was pounding against the walls of my chest. “If there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know.”

He didn’t. And what the hell could I do, anyway? Check his math? I just waited and watched the human calculator in motion. The Mozart of Math. Each time he solved an equation, a little beeping noise told him that he’d gotten it correct, but then another one appeared. I saw the target number—
seven
—scribbled just above the LED readout. This problem wouldn’t be solved until that number turned up as a solution—a final solution. And there was no telling how long that might take.

Thirty seconds to go. Twenty.

“Darcy,” I said quietly, “I don’t want to distract you. I don’t even want you to listen to me. But I have to say—I have to tell you—” I drew in my breath. “You’re a good boy, Darcy. A very good boy.” Pause. Ten seconds to go. “I’d be lucky to adopt a kid as great as you. And you’d make a hell of a good policeman.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. He let out a scream—

He stopped the clock with four seconds left to go. I don’t really know what happened after that—Granger showed up with some of his men and they took control of the situation. Which was okay with me, because my legs had totally turned to Jell-O and I was lying on the carpet laughing and crying my eyes out.

“YOU HAVE GOT to be kidding,” I said.

“I wouldn’t kid about something this important.”

I had my feet propped up on the desk. My first day back in the office after an enforced and unwanted medical leave, and I felt better than I had in months. And this time, it wasn’t a case of Better Living Through Chemistry. “How many people have you shown this to, Colin?”

“Oh, about a hundred and five. Kiddo, I’ve been showing it to everyone I know since you found it in the woman’s hotel room. I’m telling you, that little blue notebook is solid gold. In an intellectual sort of way.”

“She wasn’t delusional?”

“No! Well, maybe in the killing people way, but her math is solid. I don’t think I can explain how tremendous this accomplishment really is. People have been trying to solve Reimann’s hypothesis for hundreds of years.”

“That’s what Esther told me. The first time I met her.”

“And she’s done it! At least, as far as anyone can tell so far. It has to go through peer review. These mathematical proofs are scrutinized for years before they’re fully and finally accepted. But speaking for myself—I think it’s the real deal. Can you imagine anything weirder than that?”

Yes, sadly enough, I could. I thought back to that first meeting with Esther, when she explained the theory of extreme intellectual capacity, the thin line between genius and madness. It seemed Esther had both, big time. What might she have become in a different world, with a different childhood? Different parents. Different everything.

“It’s a shame, really,” Colin mused. “Wasting a mind with that kind of ability. You think they’ll let her do math in prison?”

I sighed. “I don’t think it matters, Colin. She won’t be there long.”

I WAS GLAD the bomb did not explode while I was holding it. I was not worried well maybe just a little and maybe I should have been more worried but I did not have time to be more worried because I was busy solving the puzzle and I like it when I have puzzles to solve. Puzzles are fun. Everyone kept acting like I had done some wonderful thing but all I did was solve a puzzle and I like doing puzzles so what is so wonderful about that? It would be nice if everyone could get so much praise just for doing the things they like to do anyway.

I am glad we caught the Math Lady, but I feel sort of sorry for her, even though she did hurt people. I bet she liked to do puzzles too and now she probably will not get to do puzzles anymore. I would not like that.

I wish I understood why Susan started crying when the bomb did not explode. I would understand if she cried because the bomb did explode, but this does not make any sense to me. I guess I am just too stupid to understand things like that. But I still think I could be smarter. Especially if Susan would help me.

My dad kept saying that the best part of this case was when I out-smarted the Math Lady. But he was wrong. The best part of this case was when Susan called me her Darcy.

“IT WOULD NEVER HAVE WORKED, you know,” I said, as I peered at the figure at the opposite end of the interrogation table. She seemed much smaller now, and it wasn’t just because she had delivered the baby—a perfectly healthy seven pound nine ounce girl. Esther named her Anna. “Never in a million years. No matter how many times you destroyed the Sefirot.”

“That’s your opinion,” Esther said, through dark, hooded eyes. She looked feeble; I knew she wouldn’t live much longer. She was being surprisingly cooperative, telling us everything we wanted to know. It wasn’t so much the usual serial killer’s narcissist pride in their brilliant master plan, at least I didn’t think so. She was smart enough to know it was over. Everything. “Because you don’t believe in God in the first place.” Her tired eyes looked downward. “I believe in Him. I just hate the bastard.”

“Whether God exists or not, I know this. He can’t be accountable for everything that goes wrong.”
Take good care of our son for us, okay?
“If He could, someone would’ve given Him the boot a long time ago.”

I expected an argument, maybe something mathematical, maybe a long-winded Kabbalistic theological discursion, but I didn’t get it. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

I didn’t have to ask who she was talking about. “Yes, she is.” I smiled a little. “Favors her mother.”

“No. She favors my sister. That’s why I gave her that name. They weren’t going to let me see her, you know. Not at first.”

I did know. The DHS people argued that when a child is going up for adoption, it’s standard procedure not to let the birth mother see her. But I came down on them in my inimitable fashion, explained that there was no chance of Esther ever interfering in the girl’s life, so they relented. “I will monitor the adoption process,” I told her. “Just like I promised. I have some experience with those people.” Most of it bad, but I didn’t tell her that. “I’ll make sure your daughter ends up in a good home. A very good home. A safe home.”

She smiled a little, not much, and her head fell lightly on her arms resting on the table. Her eyes seemed to go into soft focus, as if concentrating on something far far away.

“I would’ve been a good mother,” she said quietly, tears suddenly filling her eyes.

I took her hand and squeezed it as tightly as I could. “I know.”

DARCY HATED CROWDS, but I made sure every available body in the whole damn police force was there, just the same. And I made sure Chief O’Bannon was the one who made the presentation.

“Darcy O’Bannon,” the chief said, clearing his throat. He hated giving speeches in front of crowds, which was another reason I made sure as many people as possible were present. “In commendation for your public service, and in recognition of your outstanding acts of courage and personal bravery, I am pleased to award you the LVPD’s Citation of Honor, which is”—his voice choked—“which is the highest civilian award we have.” He wrapped the medal around Darcy’s neck (Darcy only writhed slightly), and shook his hand. “Congratulations, son.”

The crowd burst into applause. Tony, Jodie, even Granger. They cheered and gave him a round of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” Darcy looked as if he didn’t really know what was happening, and I suppose in a way, he didn’t. But I also think that in a way, he did.

“And about that civilian business.” The chief shuffled his feet, stared at the floor, then continued. “I am pleased to inform you that your—your application to the Las Vegas Police Academy has been accepted. You start next month.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. This part he understood. “But—B-B-But—” He took a deep breath and started again. “But I did not make an application to the police academy.”

His father placed his hand gently under Darcy’s chin, forcing him, just this once, to make eye contact. “I did it for you.”

Well, this called for a celebration. I joined Darcy and about a thousand other cops at Grady’s after the ceremony, but he was devoting too much time to me. This was his chance to learn that he had other friends on the police force, friends who might be useful to him in the days ahead. And I knew I was going to see him tomorrow.

And I had a ceremony of my own to perform. Not quite as fancy as cracking a bottle of champagne over the masthead of a ship, but still nice in its own way.

I poured several bottles of pills into the toilet.

I hadn’t used any of them in more than a week. The exercise was mostly symbolic. But it meant something to me.

I would never know for certain. Esther was smart, clever, the exact antithesis of what you expect a serial killer to be. Maybe I wouldn’t have made her anyway. But with my natural gifts suppressed, with my brain doped to the gills, I had no chance of recognizing her for what she was.

And then she killed four more people. Including Amelia.

I would never make that mistake again.

In Amelia’s memory, I pulled the coffee table she bought me out of the bathroom and brought it downstairs. I looked at my old table, with its preposterous chewed-up leg, scratched and clawed surface, one last time.

“So let me see if I have this straight. The dog died. But you kept the table he ruined?”

David gave me that smile, the big one, the one I could never resist. “I loved that dog.”

“He chewed up your table!” We were newlyweds. I was more concerned about material possessions back then.

“But he was still a great dog. Helped me through the toughest years of a tough adolescence. Didn’t matter what I did. Gabby was always there for me. And what did he ask in return? Nothing. A little food and water every now and again, that’s all. His love was unconditional.” He paused, then gazed at me with those endless baby blues of his. “Love like that is hard to find.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“When Gabby died, I was so…depressed. I can’t describe it to you. I couldn’t get out of bed in the morning. Even when I started functioning again—I wasn’t really functioning. The hurt was always with me. I couldn’t get over the loss. Thought I’d never stop being sad.” He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it. “But I did, in time. Eventually—you have to move on. You know what I mean?”

Yes, David, I thought, as I carried the old table out to the Dumpster. I know what you mean.

Later that night, after I crawled into my jammies and turned out the lights, I reached toward my alarm clock—

And found the four-leaf clover. I squeezed it tightly.

There he was.

He wasn’t really there, of course. But I could smell him. I could taste him. I could even…feel him, in a way. He was real to me. Back where he belonged.

Tonight, one last time, we were going to spend the night together. And then it would be time to move on.

“MY GOD, these are heavy,” I said, as I tossed the U-Haul box onto the sofa. “I’m a strong girl, but I’m going to need some serious rehabilitative therapy after this move is over. Maybe an all-day massage.”

“I think that maybe you should rest for a minute,” Darcy said. “You sit on the sofa and I will get the rest of them.”

“There are hundreds of them!”

He thought a moment. “It might be more than a minute. Would you like to watch television?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s in all these boxes, anyway?”